ARWIN

  Arwin thought, what now? Should he ask about a guest room? Or would that be too much to hope for?

  She solved his conundrum quickly enough. She gave him a quick smile. “Sorry, but for now, I think it would be best if you return to the dungeon. For now. I mean, I don’t know who you really are, so that would be the safest thing.”

  He nodded back.

  Well, at least the Enchantress seemed to be in a good mood now. So his pn to get on her good side had at least made a start. Trying to see how much goodwill he’d earned so far, he asked, “I don’t suppose there’s a guided tour leaving from the dungeons so that I might see something of your castle at some point?” So he could check around for a princess in a crystal prison.

  She looked away. “Well, I do have a lot of work to do. But perhaps I could find some time tomorrow to show you around. We’ll see.”

  He hopefully suggested, “I could just wander around a bit on my own tomorrow, too, if you’re busy.” He wanted to ask for Yaz to be freed as well but suspected it was too soon. He obviously hadn’t earned enough trust yet.

  “Maybe.” She half shrugged. She gnced at the door, seemingly anxious to leave the room. “I suppose I could have Drathgar accompany you.”

  The spider prince who wanted to murder him? “No, but thank you. I don’t think he and I get along so well. I’d rather spend time with you.” She seemed to enjoy hearing that, but Arwin decided not to push things.

  He was escorted by other giant spiders back to his cell in the cmmy, stone dungeon. She hadn’t been entirely cruel about returning him there, however. The cell now featured a small cot with a bnket and a pillow. She’d given him a change of clothes. She’d also given him a small globe of magical light. It lit up when he said ‘lumos’ and darkened when he said ‘demort’. It was odd how the globe went out; the light would turn a sickly green, then slither back into the sphere with a hiss. Light should not slither!

  Once he was alone again in the cell, he tried calling out to Yaz through the window in the cell door. “Yaz! Dude! You ok?”

  There was no answer. Had the skeleton been moved? Or was he still not talking?

  With a sigh, Arwin sank onto the cot and said, “Demort.” The light turned green, then slithered away, leaving him in utter darkness. He tried to sleep, but his mind was much too excited for that. It whirred and tumbled, becoming active now that there were no external stimuli to distract it. He had plenty to think about.

  It still amazed him that he was now in some foreign universe. Magic was real here. There were monsters and dragons and undead and, of course, beautiful, deadly witches. Well, magicists, in the Dark Enchantress’s case.

  The Dark Enchantress. Orchid. She was…confusing. He was drawn, of course, to her beauty and intelligence. Yet she had something of a violent streak, a dark heart, a temper, and a famed evil reputation that simply couldn’t be entirely without foundation, could it? Surely there was some kernel of truth, some reason that everyone feared her as much as they did.

  He instinctively found it difficult to reconcile the image of the vilin with the young woman who cooked and grew orchids. He had less trouble pairing her reputation with the version of her that had threatened him and seemingly tried to murder him. Although, none of the fireballs had really been that on target, had they? If she’d really been intent on hurting and not just scaring him, surely she could have easily done so. When they weren’t fighting, being with her was the most natural thing in the world.

  What was he to think of her? He y in the darkness, mentally repying their conversations.

  And then, unbidden, Kelli popped once more into his mind. What would she think of all this? What would she think of the Enchantress? And, of course, how did the two compare? It was enough to cool his excitement, repcing the feeling with heartbreak instead, and even more confusion followed.

  Luckily, his insomnia eventually gave way to dreams, and though troubled, at least he got some sleep.

  The next morning, Arwin woke to the sound of running water bubbling somewhere close by. He spoke, “Lumos.”

  The globe fred to life. But it illuminated no water running in the cell.

  Puzzled, he rose and carefully stepped up to the door, wary of alerting his guards. Oddly, the sound didn’t appear to be coming from outside, in the hall. He slowly went about the cell, which was easy enough given the fact that it was only two and a half paces in any direction. At st, he realized that the sound was coming from below. Was there another level of dungeon beneath this floor? Sewers perhaps?

  Before he had a chance to explore further, noises in the hall alerted him to visitors. He dressed in the new clothes he’d been lent and waited.

  The door swung open, and bzing torchlight flooded Arwin’s cell.

  Seven gremlins stood in the doorway and hallway. The bck, reptilian monsters grinned at him, mouths full to bursting with neat rows of short, pointed teeth. They hungrily watched him with wide, evil eyes that glowed yellow and red, with vertical bck slits for irises, probably capable of seeing well in the dark. They had rge ears that stretched out like leathery wings, no doubt capable of excellent hearing. The hands grasping their torches only had three thick digits each, but each finger and thumb bore a curved, dangerous talon. Despite standing only about hip high on Arwin, perhaps a meter tall or so, the gremlins appeared fast, strong, and agile: a threatening combination. Arwin doubted that his superior size and strength could easily prevail against so many. Those talons would probably cw him to ribbons, and those toothy maws would rip great chunks out of his flesh. Plus, they had the numbers.

  The gremlins giggled with glee and jumped up and down with anticipation. It appeared as if his interactions with the Enchantress had come to naught after all. He was about to be eaten.

  Arwin fought to keep his fear under control. “What do you want?”

  A gremlin from the back pushed his way forward. Unlike the others, who were naked, this one wore a trim tuxedo with a blood-red bowtie. He wore thin, wire-framed spectacles and carried a clipboard in one hand and a fancy feather quill in the other. He asked, “What do we want?”

  Arwin blinked. It had spoken. In his nguage. And with a cultured English accent!

  “What do we want?” the gremlin repeated more slowly, with a wide smile, dramatically gesturing in thought with his quill, like some Shakespearean actor on a stage, drawing the audience in for a soliloquy. His voice was polished, smooth, and full of confidence; it was deep and resonant. “I think we want, what anyone wants, really, is what you want: civilization. You know, the niceties, the finer points in life: diplomacy, standards, compassion, manners, love, and institutions that protect and preserve the best aspects of our existence in order to promote healthy long-term growth for our species. That’s what we’re reaching towards. Cospy conventions, swing dancing, chamber music, literary genius, fine wine, those candies that snap, crackle, and pop when you put them in your mouth. Our own schools. Equal pay. A system of semi-autonomous self-government with fair checks and bances that protect individual freedoms within a rger framework of interdependent cooperation, one without bias against those of shorter stature, such as ourselves. Everything human society has allegedly been striving towards for centuries: we, gremlin-kind, want to be civilized.”

  Astounded at what he was hearing, Arwin shook his head, confused. “Uh — what?”

  The bespectacled gremlin bowed his head and continued on, grave and somewhat apologetic. “Of course, like you, we have our baser, more monstrous aspects to overcome. Just like you humans, we have our primal, violent side. Look at this.” He slipped his writing quill into the hand holding the clipboard. Then he reached into his bck jacket and pulled out a magic wand.

  Next to him stood a giggling idiot of a gremlin with googly eyes and a trickle of drool in the corner of his mouth. The idiot looked right at the wand, pointed at his face, and only giggled more.

  The tuxedo-wearing gremlin pointed the wand at the idiot’s head. “Affram!” he shouted. A white ball of light shot from the wand and burrowed into the idiot’s head, which then exploded like a ripe melon, casting brain and skull matter all over the room.